Itinerary

I got on it today!

I mean.

I really did a lot of travel prep for my upcoming trip to Havana, Cuba.

I got my passport out.

I slowly, painstakingly, double, triple, quadruple checked how to fill out my Visa, then I filled it our correctly.

I got traveler’s health insurance.

You have to have proof of insurance for entry into Cuba, and though I am fairly certain my health insurance was ok, I didn’t want to risk being turned away for not having the proper insurance or paperwork.  So.  I just used the health insurance that Cuba Travel Services, who I used to procure my Visa, recommended

Frankly, $55 was worth not having to worry about anything.

Then.

I started booking things through Air BnB.

The Visa I am traveling under is in the category of “Support of Cuban People” which is not a traditional tourist Visa, nor was it one of the two categories the current administration squashed.

“People to People” got pulled and so did the Visa that folks use if they’re on a cruise ship.

But.

In “Support of Cuban People” is still legitimate.

Plus I did my research and what I found was that Visa’s granted before the current restrictions were put in place will be honored.

I got my Visa in the mail the day before the sanctions came down.

I am so grateful that I listened to the little voice inside which told me to take care of my Visa before I traveled.

So, so, so glad.

I will have some restrictions on what I can and can’t do with this Visa, and frankly, I’m not bothered by them at all.

I can’t shop at military run or government supported stores or businesses.

Or stay in hotels operated by the government.

No big deal.

I am staying at a private residence that is called a “casa particular” which is pretty much a family owned bed and breakfast.

I had looked up some on Air BnB, but found nothing that was quite the right fit, then I googled for places and stumbled upon a Forbes article that called the place I’m staying one of the best secrets in Old Havana and I checked it out and made a request.

And.

Yes!

They have a room for me.

For 40 Cuban Peso a night including a full breakfast.

I’m pretty sure I posted up about the place before, but I really excited that I landed in such a sweet spot.

Plus, it’s in Old Havana, which is pretty much where I want to spend most of my time anyway.

I’ll be staying in one of the Art Deco rooms in Hostal Chez Nous next to La Habana Vieja, the old square.

I will pay when I arrive.

They don’t accept American credit cards for reservations.  I literally printed off the confirmation e-mail and I present that and the money in Cuban peso for my 8 night stay.

320 Cuban Peso.

For 8 nights including a full Cuban breakfast.

Seriously good deal.

And since I will have to bring plenty of cash, first converting to Euro because the exchange rate is better for Euro than the American dollar, I decided I would preemptively book some activities.

I had never really delved into the Air BnB activities before, really only just used it to book rooms for myself when I have traveled.

New York.

D.C.

New Orleans.

Paris.

I tend to do pretty well finding what I want to see and do without having to deal with a tour guide or the like.

But a friend of mine had gone Havana within this last year and sent me a private message about places to go and things to do that he highly recommended and two of them were Air BnB experiences.

So.

I checked it out and I was pleasantly surprised.

One.

As I can pre-pay for them and thus not have to carry as much cash on my person.

And two, that all the activities I booked fall under my Visa category, “Support of Cuban People” which made me very happy.

Most of the sites I researched suggested that it would be very unlikely that I would be asked for an itinerary, but just in case, I can show one in which every day I am doing something to support the Cuban people.

My first day in I didn’t book anything.

I was going to, but I figured I’ll be jet lagged and tired and may just want to check into the casa and chill out.

Maybe wander around a little bit and take myself out to dinner in the neighborhood, but nothing serious.

The second day I am going to go to La Marca  Havana’s only legal tattoo shop, also it’s first tattoo shop.  It is also an art gallery and what appears to be a pretty hipster little scene.  I tried to book online with them but it bounced back.  So I’m just going to show up and ask for a walk in appointment.

It’s in Old Havana and maybe a ten minute walk from where I’m staying.

I also plan on going shopping at Clandestina, Havana’s first independent clothing company that happens to be run completely by women.

I’m so in.

Next, yes, yes, I did.

I booked a classic car ride to tour the seawall and cruise along the Malecon.

Ironically, I’ll need to take a taxi to get there, but I couldn’t help but want to do at least one cruise around Havana in a classic car, I mean, really, I had to.

Wednesday I left pretty open.

I figure museums and cafes and I booked a couple of hours with an art student from the university to take me on a photo tour.

This I’m looking forward to, I love street art, and off the beaten track and that’s what this seems to be.  This was also the activity my friend raved about, so two hours in the afternoon wandering around taking pictures with a local student.

Totally down.

Thursday I picked a big adventure, basically committed myself to twelve hours of tour.

I booked a historical tour to the Vinales Valley, tobacco farms, coffee farms, a tour through some of the famous caves and horseback riding in and out of the valley.

What really nailed it for me was that they host come and pick you up where you are staying and drop you back off.

There’s no Uber there.

No Lyft.

I don’t speak Spanish.

Not much really, a few tiny phrases, and something about haggling with a taxi cab driver or getting lost really doesn’t sound like fun for me, so having the pressure taken off by getting picked up and dropped back off really sold me.

Plus.

Ahem.

The ride there and back is in a classic 50s convertible.

Um.

Hehe.

Yes please.

Friday I’ll be doing a ferry trip over the bay to a little known spot in Havana called Regla.  There was something about the trip that appealed.  I don’t know the neighborhood, but I like that it’s a tour guided by a women who is an art history graduate who lives with her grandmother and shows off the markets in the neighborhood.

Plus.

Ferry boat ride.

I’m a sucker for a ferry boat.

Then Friday night I am going clubbing.

But not by myself.

I’m a pretty self-assured woman, but I didn’t want to hit the clubs solo, but there was one place I really wanted to go, FAC The Cuban Art Factory, a gallery space with art and music and djs and it looks like the place to go.

I connected with a couple of women on Air BnB who I will meet up at a cafe and head over to the club and hang out with and get the lowdown and have a safety net.  Really quite pleased with this.

Saturday I’m doing a farm to table lunch with a local chef and then.

And then.

And then.

Holy shit.

It happened.

I was able to book a night with the Buena Vista Social Club!

I am over the fucking moon.

The experience was sold out the last time I looked and it appears that more shows go added.

Basically this lovely older woman books a dinner table for you at the club, you meet her, she’s bought your ticket, you hang out with her and two or three other folks, eat dinner at the club and get to see the floor show and hear the band play.

Never in a million years did I imagine when I bought that compact disc so many moons ago in Madison that I would actually be going to Havana and getting to see a performance of the Buena Vista Social Club.

Fuck.

I feel so grateful.

Sunday morning I’m doing a cultural market and food tour with a lunch to follow with a lovely women who after I booked asked if I wanted to be included in a trip to the beach, Santa Maria beach.

Why yes.

Yes.

Yes I do.

So after the market and lunch I will go with her in a, yes, heh, classic convertible to the beach for a few hours of swimming and laying in the oh so white sand.

Pinch me.

Seriously.

Who’s life is this?

My last day in Havana I want to relax and chill out so I sent a query off to the Manzana Hotel to book a spa pass for their rooftop pool and spa facilities.

60 Cuban peso is not the cheapest, but the pool is so pretty.

I figure book a massage, lay out by the pool and just relax before I head back to the foggy fog.

I am so pleased.

And very excited.

So excited.

It feels really good to have this planned out.

And really.

I don’t think I could have done anything much better with my fourth of July holiday than work on the details for this trip.

Seriously.

I Almost Called You

But, of course, I did not.

The sunlight was streaming through the windows at my studio, just flooding in, and the urge to call, just pick up my phone and call was so strong I gasped out loud with it.

I also yelled at you again today in the car, “sack up and be a fucking man.”

Ah, emotions.

Hello.

I miss you sugar, but I’m not calling.

You can reach out to me under certain circumstances and I’m sure you know what they are.

I don’t expect that you will.

Sometimes I think it might happen and I get hopeful, but I really don’t think you will.

But the light, at sunset, so majestic and golden, it reminded me of our early days together and the day/night/sunset that I fell in love with you.

And then I realized we’re in that time now.

It would have been just over two years ago this past week that I met you with your friend for an anniversary dinner at the Citrus Club in the Haight.

I had not planned on going and was surprised to get the phone call saying, come out and have dinner, it’s your anniversary.

But.

Having just recently found out that you had a crush on me, I decided to go.

I don’t think I changed so fast in my life, striped right out of those yoga clothes and dressed up and hopped on my scooter.

I got there so fast I was the first one there and waited nervously for you to show up.

You seemed nice, but noncommittal.

Of course, you told me later you’d basically given up on me and didn’t think there was anything going to happen between us.

But there was.

And not too soon thereafter.

May 3rd, 2017, our first kiss.

God.

It still makes my heart do all sorts of somersaults thinking about that and how quickly we found each other.

It wasn’t very long after that I fell in love with you, falling into your eyes as the sunlight beamed through the windows.

Oh lover.

So it was really hard to not call.

And there’s so damn much I want to tell you!

So much.

I’m going to Cuba!

Havana, specifically.

I just got my VISA ordered tonight before starting this blog.

There is so much to do before I go, so much homework, work work, therapy clients to see, studying to do, I have to take my Law and Ethics exam soon and I have just shelled out $295 to the Therapist Development Center for all the study materials to pass the test.

I have a lot to do before I go to Havana in July.

But, oh, Havana.

I’m so distracted by the trip that I find myself barely able to focus on the things that need to be addressed before I go.

I also really didn’t have the bandwidth at all to do homework the last couple of days as I’ve been up early and at work early both days, the kids are on Spring Break and the parents are working extra and the grandmother is coming for a visit.

I had to juggle  a lot of monkeys the last few days, no time for homework and no time after getting home from seeing clients to attend to it either.

But looking up Havana, Cuba on the net.

Oh, I’ve got time for that.

Yes, yes, I do.

I have done lots of research and nailed down some specific experiences that I want to have.

Mostly because I know that showing up with nothing planned is not a great idea for me as I will be a single, I assume, woman traveling to a Spanish-speaking country.  I’ve already been told I will get catcalls, etc. And since I don’t speak much Spanish I really want to be prepared.

Also that there’s intermittent to little WiFi.

That the ATM’s don’t take American credit cards or debit cards.

And that no American cards at all are accepted anywhere, basically everything is done in cash.

I’ll need to get CUC when I arrive at the airport.

You can’t get the currency outside of Cuba.

So it’s not like I can go to SFO and drop some money and get it, I have to bring a bunch of cash with me and then exchange it in Cuba when I get there.

The casa particular I’m staying at requires my payment up front in CUC when I check in.

That’s $320, for eight days including breakfast.

Hella good deal.

In fact.

I should be able to really do quite a lot of things on a fairly small budget.

And I think I will end up booking a bunch of Air BnB experiences.

I believe I can pre-pay these by card before I go and then I don’t have to haggle prices when I can barely speak Spanish.

There are a lot of super interesting things I want to do and I sort of gave myself an itinerary after doing some research on Air BnB and just Googling random things about Havana.

One day I plan on doing an “Authentic Cuban Food/Market Tour” where I will get a tour of a big market and a lunch at restaurant with a local chef.  I’m planning on doing this pretty much the second day I’m there, first day will be just getting settled in and chilling out.  That way I have an idea of how the markets work and what to buy and what things costs.

I want to do a street art and walking tour with some graduates of the University there, take photographs and get out of the heavy tourist areas.

I also want to do some shopping with a local fashion designer and artist.

I want to go to the museums of course and I also want to do an Art Deco tour.  This is with a professor at the University and I figure it’d be a great learning experience, I really like Art Deco and wandering around with a professor would be some great insight into the city.

I want to take a Salsa class, because, hello, dancing, Cuba, yes please.

I also want to do some rooftop sunsets and drive around in a vintage car.  I mean, come on, $65 for getting driven all around Havana and taken to rooftop pools?  Count me in.  I’ll be skipping the booze part, but there are non-alcoholic beverages provided, so I’m set.

And I do like the driving around in vintage cars a heap, so I’ll be doing that more than once.  I have to do the drive along the sea wall in West Havana.  Bring it.

I’m also going to do a day outside of Havana, the spendiest thing I’m planning on doing, but when you look at everything the trip is offering, its super worth it.  For $120 a full 12 hour day, you get picked up at your place in a vintage car with A/C and driven an hour to Vinales, for a cave exploration, a hike into a tobacco farm, lunch, and horseback riding.  And they drive you back and drop you off where you’re staying too. Um, totally worth the price.

It won’t be Cuba without going to the beach, in yes, another vintage car, so I’ll be heading to the beach for sure, I’m still sourcing out the right fit here, as there’s a couple of different offers and I want to explore which beach feels right.

There are two other things I want to do that have nothing to do with Air BnB experiences that I found on the web and I am really excited about doing.

One is going to this fancy hotel with apparently the best rooftop pool in Havana and getting a day pass to hang out there all day, it’s $60 for the day and I think a day of just lying around a pool and using the spa facilities is worth the money and maybe sneaking in a massage too. Hence a day trip to the Gran Hotel Manzana.

And this private restaurant: La Guardia.

It looks amazing and if it’s good enough for Sting and Barack Obama and Natalie Portman, I definitely think it’s worth investigating.

Doing this research really made me think about you too, how we’d have such fun laying poolside, walking Old Havana, finding all the delicious things to eat, Cuban coffee, the beach, just all of it.

And I didn’t call and  won’t, but man, I think about you a lot.

Not every moment of the day, but when it comes to traveling you are so on my mind it’s a challenge.

I wish you well where ever you are.

I haven’t a clue to your schedule anymore.

I wish you would reach out and I’m ok that you won’t.

I’m still not over you, don’t think I will ever be, but I might, just might, be starting to get through.

Not Excited Yet

But I’m hopeful I will get there.

I realized tonight when I wrapped up with my last client that I only have one client left to see before I go to Paris.

Paris seems far away and a touch surreal at the moment.

I have been so busy walking through this housing situation that I have spent little to no time thinking about Paris.

Cue standing in the dental aisle at Walgreens this afternoon when I went in to fill a prescription.

Why am I standing in front of the toothpaste?

I have toothpaste at home.

I don’t need toothpaste.

But I kept coming back.

Until I remembered.

Oh snap!

I need travel size toothpaste!

I’m traveling soon.

I leave in three days!

It just has not really landed at all.

I am, of course, very much looking forward to seeing my dear friend.

I miss her so much and it was hard to finish my last semester of school without her.

Friends are so damn important.

It will be good to reconnect, to have lots of time with her, and of course, to have the best and most brilliant of insider guides to the city that I love only second to San Francisco.

I am always so happy that I get to live here.

Yesterday I went and visited a friend who used to live in the city but has done what so many of my friends have done, moved out of the city across the Bay.

She lives high up in the Berkeley Hills and it was a beautiful home and a lovely, stunning really, view of the city, the bay, the fog pushing over Twin Peaks, but I could not imagine living there.

I love San Francisco.

Sure.

It’s changed, but everything changes.

And it’s still, to me, one of the most beautiful places in the world, especially to live.

I also ran an errand and took back a bicycle rack that a friend had loaned me last year for Burning Man.

That took me to Alameda.

Where I did see a few cute houses, but it felt so suburban and removed and I also could not see myself there.

Or in Oakland.

Or in Berkeley.

I see myself in San Francisco.

My focus on finding a place is focused on the city proper.

And let me tell you.

I have been looking.

I have seen a few things, but not much.

I have responded to a few things, but gotten no response.

I do feel like when the dust is settled here and all the paperwork signed and taken care of that I will be throwing all my might behind finding a new place.

I will also officially throw it up on social media and I’m quite hopeful that I will find a good place.

I have been quietly telling a few friends and starting to put the word out.

The fact is though, at this point, it’s so close to me leaving for Paris that I really should skip even looking, I don’t know that I could do anything or get anything together before I leave.

I think it’s time I get excited!

I think it’s time to contemplate what I am going to be doing, walking around in the best city to walk, seeing art, street art and art, art.

Getting to spend time shopping in the Marais at all the little paper shops for notebooks to smuggle home with me.

Gah.

I bought a book today to read on the plane and I couldn’t help myself, I bought a new notebook too.

It was too cool to pass up and I knew I must have it.

There was a little voice in my head saying don’t accrue any more stuff!  I need to get ready to move and the less to pack, the better.

But.

Well.

I couldn’t help it, I bought the notebook.

And I did some writing siting in a cafe waiting for my friend and her new baby to come and join me.

I don’t often sit in cafes in San Francisco and write anymore.

I do the majority of my writing here where I am sitting right now, at a tiny table in my tiny kitchen, heaped high with notebooks and folders and books.

God.

I love paper.

I love writing.

I wrote a love letter in the new notebook.

I think that’s why I decided I had to buy it.

It is perfect for writing love letters.

And it was.

After my friend left I had some down time to sit for a while before I headed into my internship.

To sit outside, in the warm late afternoon sun, with a bottle of sparkling water, at a park in the Mission on Valencia Street that I used to bring former charges too and write a love letter while looking up at the bright blue sky, well, it was something else.

So no regrets about buying the notebook.

It will be used.

I will also buy more when I am in Paris.

Along with my standard pair of earrings, lipstick/lip gloss or eyeshadow, postcards, museum magnets and whatever else small momento I feel I should need.

I am so looking forward to seeing Paris through my friends eyes that I will have to buy something outside of my normal repertoire of souvenirs.

I thought about perhaps buying a market basket, I do love how they look.

And.

Yes.

I have contemplated a new tattoo.

I have one in mind, I will see if it stands the test of time when I arrive.

There’s a shop in the Marais that I get my work done at and I’ll see if they have an opening when my friend is off to a wedding out-of-town one of the weekends I am there, get myself a souvenir that I can wear always.

I like that quite a bit.

Of course.

I will take lots and lots and lots of photos too.

I promise.

Psst.

Here are a few from my recent trip to New York.

Back yard patio at a lovely little restaurant in Williamsburg, The Rabbit Hole, where I had the most amazing soup and salad–broccoli cheese consume and the salad was like a deconstructed BLT with avocado and fried leeks.

So good.

Bunny rabbit lamps!

From Le Grand Strip, on Grand Ave in Williamsburg.

I swear to God I almost bought them, but not knowing where I am going to live stopped me.  Once I’m settled I may actually buy them, the owner said she could ship them for me.

Bunny lamps!

A triptych of feminist Latina women at the Brooklyn Museum.

Why, yes.

That is me in the middle.

Mural in Fort Greene Brooklyn.

More to come.

Paris soon.

T-minus three days and counting.

But who’s counting?

 

Oh No

What did I just do?

Le sigh.

I just fell down the photography hole.

Like really bad.

Really bad.

I have been sitting here at my table scrolling and clicking and adjusting and cropping and finding the right angle and super saturating this one and exposing that one, and oh god.

Where the hell did the time go?

I should have had my blog written by now.

I could easily still be in the hole.

Thank God it’s not a K hole.

But man, I was gone, gone, gone.

Since I have gotten my MacBook Air I have had a few adventures in upgrading my apps and getting my stuff organized and then there was that whole breach of security thing that I thought was going to wipe out my hard drive completely, and thank God I got that fixed and taken care or.

But whenever I have tried to download photos from my phone or from my camera, I have a digital that I cannot believe still works, it’s a Fuji Fine Pix from 2007, it may be even older than that, I bought it in January or February of 2007, so it might even be a 2006 model, anyway, I haven’t been able to get my Iphoto open on my Macbook Air.

I have downloaded the upgrader a number of times, I have tried to install it, I have stood on one foot and wiggled my ass at true north on the compass.

Well.

Maybe not the last.

But.

I have tried a number of things.

Tonight I was determined.

I am going to do this.

I took some stellar shots at Yosemite.

Both on my Iphone 5C and on my camera.

I want to see my photos and I wanted to edit them and I wanted to post them up.

I have missed posting photos to my blog.

I don’t always, but it’s fun to accompany the posts with a photograph or five, especially when I am at a national park and am seeing the most majestically beautiful land I have ever seen.

Yeah.

I would like to share those photos with y’all.

So.

I did it.

I am not sure how.

Maybe I was just relaxed enough to not care and just keep working at it and oh, shit.

I did it.

Then.

Oh shit.

I was in photography heaven.

And hell.

I had over 400 photos on my phone.

And those are probably culled down and edited on my phone, because I can and do, and I had photos from my trip to San Diego on it that I had forgotten about.

Family-my father and my grandmother 

Botanical Gardens San Diego

My Uncle, cousin, and second cousin at the Dr. Seuss exhibit

I mean, shoot, I’m even falling into the photography pie hole now, just putting a few photographs up from the San Diego trip.

There are so many great photos.

Plus I had street art and graffiti photos back up on my phone.

Screen Shot, wall of apartment building Outer Sunset, Judah at 48th Ave

Mural, downtown Atlanta, GA

Red Poppy Art House, 23rd at Folsom, San Francisco

Oh, how I love me some street art.

I have a lot more photographs that could fall into this category as well.

The ones that got me the most involved with the editing, etc, were the photographs from the Yosemite road trip I took with my two friends this past weekend.

I took about 200 photographs over all in a 36 hour period.

There was also sleeping, campfires, being in awe of nature, photographs I wish I had taken, ones that didn’t turn out and I deleted immediately, and all in all I probably shot another 100 or so, but of the ones I down loaded.

36 great ones from my camera.

18 good ones from my phone and a few I kept because of sentimental value and because my friends were so goofy in the photographs.

Half Dome from Glacier Point, Yosemite National Park

Glacier Point parking lot

Floor of the Valley, Yosemite Villages

I also suspect that there’s a group of photos that I spent a considerable amount of time editing that I cannot seem to locate right now that is really the culprit of my falling into the hole that is photo editing.

Which really bums me out since I spent a great deal of time on them and they are my top 36 photographs from Yosemite.

But I am sure they are somewhere to be found and right now, as the hours tick closer and closer to my bed time, I want to finish this blog so I can check in on a friend who’s having a hard time.

“Are you blogging?”

“Yes,” I said into the phone.

And you know, it’s a big deal if I even pick up my phone while I am blogging.

There are some phone calls I will always take.

Always.

But there are quite a few that come in during the hour or so I am on the blog doing the thing and well, suffice to say, I took my friends’ call.

Break ups are hard and that’s what one does with a friend going through a break up.

I pick up the phone.

But.

I was admonished to finish my blog then get back to my friend.

So.

Let’s wrap this up.

No more photo hunting.

Well, damn it.

Maybe just one last thought as I try to fish out the best of the best here.

Hmmm.

Hang on.

I gots an idea.

Nope.

Fuck.

Not only did I just waste more time.

I can’t find the photographs.

Damn it man.

Ugh.

Well.

They got to be there somewhere.

Fingers crossed.

Because when the Iphoto prompt asked me if I wanted to delete the photographs from my camera’s hard drive, I said yes.

So if I don’t find them I’m out a really fun set of photographs from my Yosemite trip.

I so hope that is not the case.

I really did get some great shots, but I suppose, you’ll just have to take my word on that.

Bwahahahaaha!

I found them.

Nice, Like Nice With Cheese Butter On Top

“Say cheesebutter!”  I urge one of my charges when I take a photographs of him.

It’s a word he made up.

“Cheesebutter, it makes everything better,” I smile and take his picture.

I am going to 850 Bryant tomorrow after I get up and do my daily routine and make sure that I am all nice and calm and serene and in a good head space and spiritual and shit.

And I am going to be nice.

Nice.

Nice.

That was my decision tonight when I was talking to someone about the red light incident on Tuesday and how I did a lot of writing about it and began to not only have forgiveness for the cop but actual compassion, hey, how much fun can it be doing his job?

I mean, my job?

Loads of fun.

Today I went to two different parks, was told I love you by my charge, had my hand-held as we walked through the Pan Handle park, got hugs, had her request that I sing “Hush Little Baby” to her, had her fall asleep in my lap in her rocking chair, had an Americano at the Mill, walked all over NOPA, took fabulous photographs of street art by E. Claire Bandersnatch,

Bandersnatch

Bandersnatch

Bandersnatch

 

went to Bi Rite for an apple and a bag of Holler Mountain Stumptown, had an amazing lunch with my lady, who slept two hours and twenty-five minutes, and then we capped off the day with a play date at Alamo Square Park and ran into a friend from Music Together class.

My job does not suck.

That cop, he has a job I would not want to have.

So, compassion for a person doing a job I don’t want to do and am really grateful that I don’t have to do.

Plus, as I was sharing with a woman who told me that the same night that I had my ticket incident, she hit a pedestrian in a cross walk, did not see him coming and he flew up over her windshield.

Now that makes one grateful for a ticket.

I did not get hit on my bike ride, in fact, I realized, I was slowed down, I was slowed down tonight riding that same route back home, slow, stopping not “running” any reds, and what do you know, I got to see three cops pulling over another person with a traffic infraction and listen to sirens wailing for another accident down the road.

None of these had anything to do with me except that I slowly, and cautiously rode past them.

So, tomorrow, grateful that I have a day off during the week, I  don’t normally, when I can actually go and spend time standing in line for room 145 at 850 Bryant.

Show up.

Suit up.

Let go of the results.

I know I was at fault and I am just going to go pay the fine.

I don’t have to be right.

I can just be happy.

And nice.

What if my only purpose was to go spread some good cheer at 850?

How many folks resolve to be nice when they go to 850?

I don’t believe all that many.

And I am not going to go and be nice because I think I am going to get off the ticket, I don’t think I can, I ran the red.

Granted, yes I was at a full stop and yes, I did look both ways, and yeah, the light was going to change, but was I in the wrong?

Yup.

So, be the adult and sack the fuck up.

Then I thought about my friend who had his bicycle stolen off the front of a MUNI bus.

I didn’t have my bike stolen.

I got to ride it to my awesome job today.

I did not get hit by a car in an intersection on foot.

I did not spend the last two days in the psyche ward at General.

Loads to be grateful for.

Oh, and like, hey, I have a three-day weekend!

I will pay my ticket then go on up to the Castro to see Barnaby, who just happened to have a cancellation in his schedule and will fit me in to touch up the stars on my neck and add two more for my anniversary.

Yes.

Afterward a manicure.

After that?

Well, I will be in and around the Castro neighborhood, then over to Our Lady of SafeWay to see some fellows.

Then if I have it in me, dancing at Public Works.

I’ll have it in me.

Unless something else awesome comes my way, which it might, you know, I have some special good feelings, like with cheese butter on top good, about tomorrow.

I will get to sleep in tomorrow.

I will take a leisurely hot shower, eat an awesome breakfast, drink really good coffee (I went to Bi-Rite!), write for a while, then take a sunny ride through the Pan Handle, then on down to 850 Bryant to see what happens when I show up and have accountability.

Life, I suppose.

A really good life.

A life built on responsibility, showing up, taking actions, letting go of the results, a faith-based life where I go despite the fear of financial insecurity, because I can afford it and ultimately, the money is not my money, it’s just this energy that I have been given to spread about me.

I shall spread it cheerfully.

Like a warm golden pool of cheese butter over grits.

I am going to love it up tomorrow at 850.

I might get obnoxious with it.

I will have fun with it.

I am actually, haha, kind of looking forward to going.

I will make sure I have a book to read and I will pay whatever I have to pay, and then you know what I will do?

I will fucking leave.

That’s the best part of it all.

I don’t have to stay.

I did not do anything to incur a real “visit” there and I haven’t in just a touch over 9 years.

That, that is what is really nice.

Like, cheese butter nice.

 

 

A Walk On The Beach

A phone call with a friend.

Poor friend who is in Wisconsin where they are declaring schools called off tomorrow with expected temperatures at -50 degrees Farenheit.

Yeesh.

That is cold.

I, meantime, was walking barefoot on the beach, a balmy San Francisco January Sunday stroll, with my pant legs rolled and just a button up and a tank top on.

We compared notes, caught up, and yes, laid out some tentative plans for me to come back to Wisconsin and have a visit with her, because it’s been too damn long.

She will be e-mailing me some dates that will work best for the family, having three boys takes some juggling, and I will be looking at going back either in middle May or late June, early July.

I said I cannot come after mid-July, nor in August or September.

Nope.

I will be getting ready to go do Burning Man and I suspect I will be working a lot more for the families as the event gets closer, I won’t be taking time off during those months.

So, Wisconsin in late spring or in high summer.

Either way, it won’t be winter.

Brrr.

The day really was gorgeous.

I sat outside and did a nice long, for me any way, twenty-minute meditation and got some nice sunshine on my face.

I chatted up my mom for a minute going over my flight itinerary for my trip next week, and I made plans to do nothing.

Well, I had a commitment tonight at 5:15 and another at 6:30 down at Church and Market, but other than that, nada.

I was going to beat myself up for not getting out into the surf and being in the water, but I reminded myself that the ocean is not going anywhere and there will be other days to thrash around in the tides.

Instead, I did something novel, saying out loud, “I forgive you for not going surfing today.”

I don’t have to improve every god damn day.

I could, I don’t know, like fucking relax and let the day happen.

Which, well, what do you know, it did.

After I had the long walk on the beach and the long, much-needed catch up with my best friend, I came back to the house and made lunch–so grateful for the grocery shopping trip I did–cooking up some savory oatmeal and having a nice mug of tea while I contemplated what I wanted to do with the rest of the day.

I wanted a book.

I also wanted to swing into Therapy since they were having a crazy clearance sale.

I got my stuff together and took the sweetest warm weather bike ride through the Pan Handle.  A bicycle ride that was not replete with bicycle commuters and people in a mad rush to pass by you and make the lights and get to work, just sweet warm sunshine, a soft breeze, and the delicious smell of eucalyptus trees perfuming the air.

It was gorgeous, which meant it would be even nicer in the Mission.

It was the perfect day to be in the Mission.

Normally a sunny day in the Mission would be crawling with people, but as it turns out, lucky me, there was a 49ers game happening and most everyone was inside getting their football on.

I got to Therapy and it was empty. I spent an hour combing the racks and got out of the shop with a new pair of shoes, a tank top, and three blouses for $117!

Sweet.

Huge score from the store.

The shoes alone were originally more than what I spent in toto.

Now I have some fun new clothes to wear down to Florida.

I checked the weather before speaking with my mom and despite them going through a slight cold snap, the weather is supposed to be in the mid 70s to low 80s while I am there.

High heeled sandals and a soft creamy new blouse, just meant for trotting around the golf cart community.

Or at least sitting and having ice tea with my family.

And if the weather continues to be as lovely as it was today, perhaps even I shall be sporting sandals about the city.

I will certainly have them for my summer jaunt to Wisconsin.

Though I am fairly certain flip-flops will be more my style when I am there.

Nice to have a trip like this to look forward to.

I priced out tickets recently and I not only can afford it, I feel that I cannot afford to not do it.  I just want to spend more time with the people I love and not seeing my best friend in years just doesn’t do it for me.

Aside from my score at Therapy I also got a fantastic “new” frame from Harrington’s on Valencia and 17th, for my copy of my grandparents wedding photograph.

Very excited to see it restored to its “original” self.

Then, with my messenger bag loaded with goodies I left my bicycle locked up and took a walk down the block to Clarion Alley.

It is an alley connecting Valencia Street with Mission Street and is notable for its many murals.

There were two artists working on pieces and the lack of tourists and natives, for that matter, holed up in the bars rooting for the home team, left me with the perfect time to pull out my camera.

I took a slow walk down the alley and looked at the murals.

With Much Respect

Saint

Artist Working

Clarion Alley

Marilyn

Enjoying having my camera out and the quiet of the streets.

For about another ten minutes, then the hooting and hollering and honking began, and well, I ain’t no dummy, I guess them footballers were celebrating a Niner win.

So I gathered my things about me and got back to my bike.

It was time to make it over to Church and Market any how and I wanted to avoid the revellers that were spilling out of the bars and the cops that showed up out of the blue to watch that the drunken party not get out of hand.

The sun dipped quickly behind Twin Peaks and I was grateful that I am a true San Franciscan, not lured by the lull of luscious afternoon sun, I know it’s going to cold after the sunsets, and yup.

Sure did.

I grabbed my sweatshirt and jean jacket and got cozy for the ride.

And it was much needed for the ride back to the ocean by the time I finished with my commitment it was officially cold.

The ride home was just as satisfying though.

Little traffic, crisp air, the indigo sky blushing a late slip of coral as the last kiss of sun fled this side of the hemisphere.

I felt comfortable and rode my bike down the middle of the road breezing along happy in myself, my life, my city.

Didn’t hurt that I had a new pair of shoes in my bag either.

Ready for the week ahead of me and looking forward to a little trip down South.

Life is pretty grand.

Especially when I get out of my way.